Renegade
by Zora de Blaise
Summary: A girl who couldn't speak the language of our land saved my life, but before I could find out who she was, she disappeared. Even Al Mualim's attitude toward her is raising suspicion. I have to find her again if I want answers. AltairXOC
1. First Encounter

-Chapter 1: First Encounter-

To say I was angry was an understatement. To say I was pissed off fit my description perfectly.

The evening sun was merciless against my body as I continued to glide across the rooftops of Jerusalem. It had already been a long, dreary day and my current situation wasn't helping with my mood. With the death of Majd Addin ringing in the ears of the city, I had nowhere to run or hide without someone ratting me out. Guards were at every corner both down below in the streets and on the rooftops. Those below had their swords in hand ready to plow me down if I dared to pass them and those above had their bows loaded and ready for action.

Al Mualim warned me that the city guard was on high alert as of late, but of course, I did not listen. Malik was always right; I am cocky and full of myself. I give no heed to warnings and end up regretting it.

The roof ended and the streets opened into a small square. The opposite house was too far of a jump and the guards were gaining on my position. That's when I noticed the hay wagon below.

Taking a leap of faith, I landed in the safety of the hay and disappeared into the dead grass.

Voices were everywhere and footsteps got closer as the guards descended from the roof. Peeking through a small hole on the side of the wagon, I examined the square around me. It was rather empty at this time of day because of the recent tolling of the bells signaling the public that a fugitive was on the loose.

The people who had been in the square before gave the guards a wary glance before they fled from what was to come. They knew all too well the lies and mischarges the city guard would accuse the people of. That is, all of them but one did.

A petit woman, dressed in filthy poor district rags, stood far over in the corner where it seems she hoped that no one would find her. Her once white dress was covered in dirt and her shawl was hanging loosely around her neck; threatening to fall. She clutched a dark purple pouch to her chest as fear ran through her sapphire-colored eyes.

"Where is that damn assassin?" a guard roared. I could not tell where the voice originated from, but it made the others search frantically around the square. "Hold on! You! Wench!"

The girl, who had now buried herself further in between a building and crate, was frozen on the spot. Another guard caught on to her hiding spot and yanked her by the arm so that she was surrounded by the others. Each had their swords in hands and a nasty grin plastered on their smug faces. The girl was no longer clutching the pouch so I assumed she dropped it when the guard grabbed her.

"There was a man garbed in white robes through here! An assassin! Where did he go?" one of the guards interrogated the frightened girl.

She did not respond.

"I said: Where did the assassin go? Answer me!" the guard roared as she grabbed the girl's shawl and a handful of hair. The girl cried out in pain as tears began to pour from her eyes.

"Calm down, Muktar. Look at her. You are frightening her. You shouldn't expect people to answer you if they can't even speak," another guard stepped in. By his complexion and accent, I assumed that he was part of Robert de Sable's men. A French man. "Let her go."

Muktar huffed loudly before harshly letting the girl go. The small woman fell to the ground on her knees as more tears began to show. The French man squatted in front of her and gave her his best smile.

"Now. Now. Don't be alarmed. We are looking for a man in white robes; sort of like a monk. Have you seen him?" the French guard questioned. The girl remained silent with her head hung low so that no one could see her eyes. "Hmm…"

The guard gave the others a look before giving his full attention back to the girl.

"Vous parlez francais?" the guard tried again. The girl's ears perked at the sound of the man's new language. She rubbed the tears from her eyes and looked up at the man addressing her. She nodded once making the guard grin like a fox. He asked her something else in French that I was unable to catch; however, it was evident what he wanted when the girl's eyes once again showed fear.

The girl's attention strayed over to the hay wagon that I was currently occupying and gulped. Her eyes bore into the hole that I was peeking out of as though she knew I was watching.

"Il…Il…Je ne sais pas," the girl finally replied as she gazed back at the guard.

"What did she say?" Muktar questioned.

"It seems either she has no idea where he went or she does not want to say," the French guard replied; his eyes were still glued to the girl.

"She is wasting our time then," another guard spoke up.

"Agreed," the French guard said as he stood to his full height. "Split up and continue searching for the assassin! He could be anywhere by now."

Just as fast as they appeared, they were now gone. The French man stayed behind; his eyes lingered on the girl still kneeling on the ground. Her gaze never left his as she fiddled her fingers on her lap.

She whispered something to the man, but he did not give any signs that he was listening. Instead, the French guard unsheathed his sword making the girl fall backwards onto the dirt ground. She crawled away from him whispering in French as tears once again poured from her eyes.

The guard mockingly laughed at the girl as he slowly approached her. He said something small to her before he drove his blade into the girl's right shoulder. Her screams echoed off the buildings and shattered my ears. The French man snickered before pulling his sword from her shoulder. The man took the time to spit on her before exiting the square.

The girl's cries of pain receded into silent sobs as she continued to lie on the ground. A small pool of blood was now surrounding her shoulder and with a quick glance you would have thought she was dead.

She knew I was here, so there was no need for me to stay in hiding. I pulled myself from the darkness of the hay wagon and onto the streets bathed in the evening sun. The girl was still sobbing on the ground when I approached her. Her shoulder was a mess. The blade had missed the bone and tore most of the skin and muscle.

My ears twitched at the sound of the girl's voice. Her whispers were small and the words twisted into a different language.

"What is it you are trying to say?" I questioned as I moved my head closer to hers. The girl's words still did not make sense to me. My lips drew into a frown as my frustration grew. How was I going to communicate with this woman if she could not speak Arabic?

Apparently she noticed my confused form and decided to resort to pointing at what she was talking about. Her index finger guided my eyes toward the spot hidden between the building and crate that the girl was in not too long ago. I stood to my full height and slowly strolled over to where the girl was pointing.

Behind the crate was the dark purple pouch that had went missing when the girl was yanked from her hiding spot. A thin rope was tied around the mouth of the pouch to keep in whatever the object was inside.

"What is this?" I questioned as I turned on my heel to look at the girl; however, she was no longer there. Her puddle of blood was smeared where she had stood and a trail lead to a nearby alleyway. She escaped without a sound, almost like a ghost or shadow.

If it were not for the blood on the ground and the pouch in my hand, I would have thought that she never existed.

xxxxxxx

"How can this be?" my master questioned as he carefully studied the object that was in the pouch.

"What is it?" I asked. I watched Al Mualim's expression change from confused to perplex before changing back to confused.

"This, my child, is another Piece of Eden," my master replied. "And you said a young woman gave this to you?"

"Yes. She sacrificed herself by distracting the guards before telling me where the pouch was hidden," I explained.

"Odd…" Al Mualim mumbled. "Did she say anything else to you?"

"Words in a language I do not understand."

"That so… can you repeat what she said?"

"Hardly. My tongue cannot seem to produce the words correctly."

"So it seems. Learning a new language is not easy in the least bit, but do not fret, Altair." Al Mualim began to pace before stopping to stare out a window that towered behind his desk. "Do you know where she might have gone for refuge?"

"No. If I were to take a guess, I think she would stay in the poor district."

"I see. My child…I ask that you forget about this woman. As an assassin, you have a job to do. You must continue your responsibility if you want to become the Master Assassin you once were."

I bit my tongue at the urge to question Al Mualim now that my brain was reeling to know more about the subject. By my master's posture and the tone in his voice, I knew he was hiding something from me.

"Master, may I ask-"

"Silence!" Al Mualim cut me off. "What's done is done! You may return to your quarters until it's time to depart to Damascus where your new target is waiting."

With my jaw tightening, I bowed before leaving the old man to study the artifact.


	2. Back in Jerusalem

-Chapter 2: Back in Jerusalem-

It had been around two months since the last time I saw the gates of Jerusalem. Like Al Mualim had asked, I had hunted down Sibrand in Acre and Jubair al Hakim in Damascus before I was to return to here. The old man went as far as telling Malik to keep an eye out for me just in case I entered the city without orders.

My target was now the infamous Robert de Sable. Now was the time to seek revenge for what he had done at Solomon's Temple. This was not only for me, but for Malik as well. I regret what I had done, both for what happened to Malik and his brother. I'm here to avenge them, not myself.

"Well, well. You finally arrive." That voice sounded familiar.

"Malik," I muttered in response. Wrapped between his torso and only arm was a full bag of what I guessed to be the weekly ration of food and other supplies for the assassin bureau.

"What brings you to Jerusalem this fine day?" The sarcasm dripped off each word like venom off a snake's fang.

"I presume Al Mualim sent word of my arrival," I replied.

"He may have," Malik pretended to ponder. "But he never said who you are here to strike down."

I stopped in my tracks as we entered an alleyway, which in return made the bureau leader also stop. He turned to look at me and noticed that my gaze was on a stall in the distance.

"What is it?" Malik's words fell on deaf ears as I stared at the vendor girl. Those sapphire-colored eyes and foreign complexion; she was the one who threw off the guards last time I was in the city.

"Malik, you know all the names of the vendor's in Jerusalem, do you not?" I questioned as I watched the girl hand a man a canister of spices in exchange for a few coin.

"Yes I do. What of it?" Malik replied as he tried to locate who I was looking at.

"Who is that woman in the stall?" I asked as I gestured toward her. The stall she was working at was built next to a butchery so that the endless amounts of spices littering the table of the place would find a home quickly.

"Ah, she is a beauty, is she not?" Malik smirked at my interest. "That is Adala. Her name means noble in German. She was sold into slavery about a month ago after she was separated by her family. She used to belong to a local backer, but after he passed away, she was given to his nephew who owns multiple spice vendors throughout the Jerusalem as well as Damascus." Malik clicked his tongue as Adala giggled at something a man had said. "She's not at all happy under his control. I'm surprised she has not broken down yet; she must be very strong."

I continued to stare at her as she smiled at a passing man who looked more interested in the girl's figure than the spices in the stall.

"You know her from somewhere, don't you, Altair?" Malik asked as he turned his attention from the girl to me. I nodded in reply; no words were needed. "Well, good luck trying to communicate with her. She does not know how to speak Arabic."

With that said, Malik turned on his heel and continued on to the bureau. I stayed behind a little while longer to stare at the girl before I followed in Malik's footsteps to the assassin's hideout.

-x-

Apparently Robert de Sable was holding a grand funeral for the passing of Majd Addin. Why people would believe that the man was actually being sincere was beyond me. Maj Addin had been dead for over two months, why have a funeral this late?

I was still a little sketchy about the ceremony; however, I did have a few days until it began, so I decided to explore and search for more clues to Robert's actions behind the funeral.

My first area of investigation started in the gardens and squares of the city. Not much information about the Templar order hovered there except that a few people mentioned they had seen Majd Addin and Robert meeting a few times to talk about private matters. Apparently their meetings were always out of earshot and usually lasted hours.

My next stop lead me into the market area. The general area was closed in to keep the rain and dust storms from ruining materials and it kept the smell of spices and other foods lingering in the air. Most merchants said they heard word that the funeral was supposed to be for Robert's special guest. Who the guest's identity was had me pondering. No one seemed to know since Robert was locked up in his fortress until the ceremony was to begin. Apparently the guards who are in charge of guarding him didn't even know who the guest was.

I was on my way to leaving the market area when I caught sight of the young woman who had saved me all those months ago. She was currently busying herself with a customer; her eyes gleamed to show she was smiling.

As she waved away the customer, I snuck up on her blind side and leaned my back against the wall as I crossed my arms over my chest. "I see that your wound has healed," I stated making the girl's tiny form jump.

She snapped her head in my direction and automatically froze up. She started to visibly shake as she tried to back away from me. She then tripped and fell backwards where she hit her head on one of the spice tables.

I quickly rushed to her side as she slowly sat up rubbing the back of her head. I examined the damage she dealt to herself before finally getting a better look at how she changed since the last time I saw her. This time she wore an ankle-length white dress that dipped low in the neck area so that it was dangerously close to showing her cleavage. Her owner must of made her wear it in order to attract customers. A matching white scarf adorned her neck and a small brown pouch was securely placed on her waist. It was then that I noticed the shackle around her right ankle. It connected to the building behind the stall and the chain only allowed her to stay in the vending area.

We said nothing as I helped her to her feet. She was so light and thin compared to how she used to look all those months ago. She gazed around at the stall to search for anything that might have been out of place, and sighed after she had found none.

"Are you-" I started to ask, but found myself interrupted by an older sounding voice.

"ADALA!"

I glanced over in the direction where the voice came from only to see a short, stout man. He barely stood at my shoulders in height and was rounder than a pig. His graying beard was clean cut and his cloths screamed of a well paid merchant. I guessed he was the owner of the stall.

"What are you doing? What is this man doing behind the counter?" the man's face was now a dark shade of red.

"M-master, I…uh," the young girl stuttered as she closed her eyes and seemed to be thinking about something.

"Save it! You can't even properly speak in Arabic so there is no point in trying to make up an excuse!" the man slapped the girl across the face causing her lip to bleed.

"Excuse me, sir," I said through gritted teeth. The man's attention left Adala and he turned to me with a frown etched in his features. "This young lady had a fainting spell and hit her head on the counter. I merely rushed to make sure she was fine."

The man seemed to have bought my lie after he pondered over it and then snorted. "Whatever. Now get out of my stall before I call the guards! Trust me, I don't want to do that to a man who serves god."

I smirked as I clasped my hands together like a scholar would. "My apologies, sir."

"Just get out of my stall! As for you, Adala, you get to spend the night in the warehouse again!"

Apparently the girl knew what the man was talking about because her eyes saddened and she began to wring her hands together.

"Now pack up the stall. I'll have my men pick you up in an hour." With that, the merchant left leaving me and Adala alone once again.

Without a word, Adala began to collect the spices from off the counter and place them in boxes. I repeated her actions and began to do the same, but was stopped by her hand.

'No," she said and grabbed the spices from me and tried to push my heavy form out of the stall.

"You do not wish for assistance?" I questioned. Adala seemed confused so I motioned toward the canisters on the wooden table. "Help?"

The young girl seemed to understand this time and shook her head in response. "Go!" She motioned still trying to push me out of the stall. I stood firm, but Adala was persistent to get me out of there.

"I'm not leaving until I get some answers," I said as I crossed my arms over my chest. Adala gave me a confused look before finally sighing. She gave up on trying to throw me out of the stall and went back to collecting the spices.

"Are you even listening to me?" I questioned as I came up to stand behind her. Her back went rigid and her breath seemed to hitch in her throat. She turned to face me and took a deep breath to calm herself.

"I…d-do not…un-und-understand…" she managed to mutter. I had to admit that at first I thought she was faking the entire language problem, but right at that moment, I realized that she was actually lost in translation.

She could not communicate to anyone here.


	3. Black Market Deals

**After all this time, I am finally updating! **

**Sorry for the long wait for those who read this story years ago, but I started it when freshman year of college, but eventually lost my interest with it after becoming busy with homework and what not. I hope to keep updating as soon as possible, and if any of you AC fans out there need more stories, I am currently working on one Black Flag story, and may be producing a second. **

**Anyway, Enjoy.**

Chapter 3: Black Market Deals

The moon hovered overhead when I finally returned to the Assassin's bureau. The rugs and pillows that made a makeshift bed on the floor never felt better than they did at that moment in time. I sighed as I got comfortable within the pile of fabric and wool and began dozing off; however, the relaxation was short-lived when Malik intruded from the other room.

"I see that you have returned late," he stated as he leaned onto the doorframe of the study.

"Stalking people does take time," I retorted.

"Right," he tsked. "Maybe you would have been done earlier had you not gone to visit Adala."

Growling, I pushed myself onto my elbows to glare at the one-armed bureau leader. "Your curiosity is stepping over its boundaries."

Malik held up his hand in a surrendering gesture. "My job is to debrief you to make sure you are ready for your assignment. If she is a distraction, it could cause problems."

"I'm well aware, _Malik. _She and I have some unfinished business, so all I did was pay her a visit to make sure the hatchet was buried."

"Is it?"

I fell back onto the pillows with a sigh. "No."

"Then I would advice you to do so swiftly as possible." The one-armed man turned to leave the room, but I called out his name just before he left. Malik's face was that of confusion as he leaned against the doorframe awaiting for me to speak.

"What is her native language?" I asked as my attention turned to the stars beyond the wooden frame of the open ceiling.

"I believe it is English, but I've only managed to speak with her in French," he responded.

"And where can I find her home?"

Malik's face fell indicating that it was probably somewhere I did not wish to know, but I was curious, and he knew that. "It is a tall structure that resides on the wall between the poor and rich districts. It is right across the street from Basharat Haidar's home, the spice merchant who owns the shop she works at. The place is always heavily guarded since the family does not like to lose any possessions; including their slaves. Al Mualim has sent a few men inside before to free the men and woman inside, but we have never succeeded in this mission."

I sat up and crossed my legs as I stared up at my old friend in confusion. "How come we haven't looked into this matter more? Does it not signal suspicion to our master that a spice merchant has placed patrols in his slave's homes? The situation of it all does not sound right."

"Our master can't always send more men to die just to inspect a slave quarters. Those problems are small compared to the Templars. We must focus on them if we want a chance to free the people they wrap chains in."

I growled lowly as I once again fell back on the _bed. _As much as the situation angered me, I had to remember my assignment. "Thank you," I muttered as I rolled onto my side with my back facing Malik.

I didn't want to talk anymore for I feared my rage would overcome my judgment. My thoughts drifted between De Sable's death and Adala's freedom, and I let them lull me to sleep as the one-armed bureau leader closed the study door behind him as I fell into oblivion.

X

Morning came too soon I thought as the sun's glaring light pierced into my drowsy eyes. I sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep from them before finally leaving the comfort that the rugs and pillows provided. Malik was already awake with his maps of the city aligned on the table with markers of targets pinned into them. A kettle of fresh tea and bread was set aside for any starving Assassin's traveling to Jerusalem.

"You are up early," Malik stated as I poured myself a cup of tea. "Are you prepared for your assignment?"

"I've learned much about our enemy," I replied, sitting in chair across the table from the bureau leader.

"Share your knowledge then, let's see what we can do with it."

Taking a deep breath, my mind focused on all the letters I've read and all the words I heard spoken by the citizens. "Robert and his Templars walk the city. They've come to pay their respects to Majd Addin. They'll attend his funeral, which means, so will I."

Malik seemed just as skeptical of the situation as I was. The news made no sense, and increased more questions left unanswered. Why have a funeral this late after the man's death?

"What is it that would have the Templars attend his funeral?" Malik questioned as he grabbed a cup of tea for himself.

"I have yet to divine their true intentions, but I will have a confession in time," I responded, placing my cup back on the table. "The citizens themselves are divided; many call for their lives, still, others insist they are here to parlay: to make peace."

"Peace?" The one-armed man appeared astonished.

"I told you: the others I have slain have said the same," I remarked, remembering our conversation yesterday.

"Then they were our allies? And we killed them?"

"Make no mistake. We are nothing like these men. Though their goals are noble, their ways of achieving it are not. At least, that is what Al Mualim has told me…"

My mind wandered as my Master's words played like a mantra in my head. Every man I had killed with my blade spoke of a greater cause, but did so in a means of control. Whether it was killing innocents, or destroying their free will. Al Mualim repeatedly told me that these men could not be trusted, but did the same apply to him?

"So what is your plan?" Malik questioned, breaking apart my thoughts.

"I'll attend the funeral and confront Robert," I responded.

"The sooner the better," the bureau leader agreed as he placed a glimmering white feather on the table between us.

X

The funeral arrangements were settled for tomorrow morning, giving me the rest of the day off for my own pleasure. However, instead of relaxing and enjoying the scenery the city had to offer, I found myself searching the bazaar for a familiar spice booth. Women adorning pots filled with water on their heads passed me a smile while rug merchants called for my attention, but all their gestures went ignored as I neared my destination.

Disappointment with a hint of fear tingled throughout my body as I noticed that Adala was not at her post in the stall. Replacing the woman behind the counter was a boy, probably no older than fourteen, who screamed of malnutrition. His voice went unheard by the passing pedestrians as he tried to attract customers to the wares.

Even though he was just as skinny as Adala, his physical appearance would most likely never lure in customers.

I approached the counter, pretending to be interested, causing the slave to smile a toothy grin. Why put away a beautiful woman for a boy whose appearance scared away the flies?

"May I help you, scholar?" the boy asked.

"There was a woman working here yesterday who had a fainting spell. I felt it is my duty to make sure she was doing alright," I replied, keeping up the noble charade.

The boy looked down at his feet and shrugged. "I don't know any of the people working here. I do as I am told and that's all I need to know."

Although I felt much regret for the boy, there was nothing I could do to save him now. "Many thanks."

I left as soon as I noticed the guards giving me suspicious looks. That boy was telling the truth, so that meant I had to either locate Adala or her owner.

X

Throughout my years of being an assassin, I have never had problems finding anyone. Every person I spoke to or listened in on did not know who she was. Even her customers told me they only knew her by the shop. She was only a face, a nobody with no name or background; as though she didn't exist.

I had spent the entire day looking for her with no success. The sun was just descending when I finally gave up my search and made my way back to the bureau. The streets had become empty, leaving an open road to walk in. The night shift never did their duty, so I was able to freely roam the streets with ease.

A young man, most likely a few years younger than I, was loading boxes from a caravan into a building as I strolled by. Just by a passing glance I noticed a symbol on the crates and froze in my tracks. I did a double-check for any near-by guards before I grabbed the man by the collar, causing him to drop the crate before I pushed him up against the building wall.

"I am looking for a woman named Adala, where is she?"

"I-I d-don't-" he stuttered as he was on the verge of pissing himself.

I didn't have the time to fully interrogate him, but I needed answers. "She is a slave for the man who carries this symbol on his merchandise."

"I-if that is so, th-then she is most likely back at the s-slave quarters now. Our master never allows the w-women to w-work late."

"Thank you. That is all I need to know."

I let go of the collar of his rags and he fell to the ground with a thud. With a quick twist of my blade on the lock, the chains restricting his feet came undone, allowing him to be free. He gave me a look of disbelief, but did not say anything as he stood and ran away.

Leaving as swiftly as possible, I vanished into the darkness of the alleyways as the noise of the guards neared the building location. Now that I had a lead, I just needed to follow the trail.

X

Following Malik's address from our conversation yesterday, I ended up across the street from the spice merchant's home which bordered the poor district. After seeing his house for the first time, I believe his ego had risen to that of a God's.

He spared no expense to have his home rise over the shacks while patrols marched in pairs around the facility. Four towers were erected at each corner of the square building, giving it a castle-like feeling. Servants and slaves frantically hurried back and forth within the corridors making me question what was going on inside.

By the looks of it, stealth alone would not allow me access. I would need a plan to trick the guards. Taking a leap of faith from my vantage point on a rooftop, I landed in a pile of hay for the spice merchant's horses that was placed along one of the corners of the square land. The guards didn't even give the haystack a second glance. Now that I was inside the fence, I had to find a way into the fortress walls.

Extending my hidden blade, I was just on the verge of sneaking out of my hiding spot to assassinate the men when a voice rang out in the window two stories above the yard.

"Guards!" the spice merchant's voice shattered the silence like a blade.

The patrols wasted no time rushing inside leaving me alone in the courtyard. I took the opportunity to jump from the haystack onto the side of the building, and made my up onto the roof.

In the middle of the castle was an open square garden that screamed of foreign design. The entire place was slowly becoming empty as the servants and slaves were told to head back to their quarters. Within a few minutes, it was just me leaning over the courtyard. I slowly made my way down the wall, using windows and ledges as support. Everything was so smooth and plain that I had no leverage for climbing. It was an assassin's worst nightmare.

The whole place seemed to eerie and quiet. For a palace that needs patrols and slaves, the atmosphere was dark and uninviting. Faint sounds of shouts echoed down the hall to my left making me quietly follow them to investigate.

"And another thing: they must not be inadequate. We need as many people as we can get on this project. There are to be no failures or we will ruin you!"

I knew that voice anywhere; I had heard that same man down in Solomon's Temple when I confronted Robert. It was his second in command who had attacked and killed Malik's brother.

"I can not get that many men in just a few days. The only slave caravans in the city are fleeing because of the assassins," I heard the spice merchant stutter.

"Do not give me that!" the French bellowed. "I know for certain that you are able to provide services within hours notice, so get done with it!"

"I am able to do small provisions. Not an entire army's worth! You are asking for something too large a scale in time that we don't have."

"Send in your own slaves if you have to. You think of them as expendable anyway."

"But how can I-"

The merchant was interrupted when a fist hit wood which I guessed to be a desk and the sound of fluttering papers followed afterwards. "No excuses. Get the job done, or all this wealth that the Templars have provided to you will disappear."

The sound of clanking metal echoed through the corridor indicating that it was time to hide. I managed to slip into a tight corner between two decorative armor displays just as Robert's men flung open the doors of the room. They marched down the hallway and out of sight. The spice merchant, along with another man, made their way slowly toward the door and peered around the corner.

"This is getting out of hand. Their plans are too extreme!" the stranger exclaimed in a shushed voice.

"I know, but the only thing we can do is do what we are told," the merchant retorted.

"The Templars are asking for too much this time. If we do this, then we are basically hollering out the window for the assassins to come to us."

"Maybe that is what Robert wants, but I fear we are better off being hunted by the assassins than by the Templars."

"Then what do we do then?"

"I have roughly enough men here and in Damascus to please Robert for the time being."

"What of the women? Robert also asked for servants for his soldiers."

"We will send all those foreign wenches. They won't be missed."

Every event that had occurred in the last few months all made sense now. The merchants, the slave trades, the massacres, and the mental patients were all for Robert's plan after the funeral. Now that I was this far, I needed more information if I were to stop the Templars before they could strike.

The two men had already dispersed and were gone out of sight by the time I had contemplated the recent events over. The door to the chamber where the men had discussed matters was closed, but not locked. With no one around, I chose this as my opportunity to get information.

The room was like any other study. Shelves with books, and most likely ledgers, filled the sides of the room; while a desk adorned the middle. A few papers were scattered on the table along with an ink bottle and quill. I glanced outside the study to make sure the corridors were clear before rummaging through the stack left on the desk.

A few ledgers, a buyer's contract, and a letter from a local baker about a business proposition were the only things there. All of it was useless information. I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck to calm myself. If there was anything about the Templars and their plans, it had to be in one of the books or was unwritten.

Searching the books would take too long, and getting answers from the servants would draw too much attention.

My frustration grew as I considered the options. The more reasonable logic dictated that I would get my answer's during Robert's confession after I sink my blade through his neck, but what if I could stop the plan before then? I tried to reason with my instincts, to find another way, but fate had already decided what I must do: kill Robert at the funeral.

Gritting my teeth together, I tossed the documents lazily back on the desk before heading towards the window. I would have to seek out Adala another time, for now, I had to make preparations if I wanted to stop whatever it is that the French bastard was planning.


	4. Robert's Demise

**And the story continues!**

**For a while, I did not know where I was going with this story since I started it so long ago, but after some thinking, I think it is going to be only a few more chapters long and then I'll leave it up to you guys to tell me if you want some sort of sequel or just another Assassin's Creed story. **

**Anyway, I don't really have much to say but follow me on Twitter if you want to see what I am up to. (TweetingZora)**

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 4: Robert's Demise

How could I have been so stupid?

My mind reeled as I fled the cemetery and past the throng of on lookers until I was in the maze of buildings. The city bells tolled while metal clanked as soldiers and Templars followed my trail through the streets. My side bled from where a blade had sliced the skin causing my vision to blur from the blood loss.

My breath became more rapid as I fought to stay conscious long enough to get to the bureau. The guards were getting closer as my run turned into a limp. Black spots filtered in and out of sight as I placed a hand of the side of a building to keep myself from stumbling to the ground.

I needed to find shelter…but where?

The crimson liquid that seeped from my wound left a bright trail for the Templars to follow which left me with little choices.

My knees finally buckled beneath me, causing my body to slam hard against the wall. I trembled as I tried to force myself back onto my feet, but it was no use. The ambition to fulfill my duty to kill de Sable was fading as my eyes fluttered to stay open.

Just a little further….the bureau was only down the street….

I couldn't find the energy to stand let alone walk the rest of the way to the Assassin headquarters. My eyes fell the rest of the way as I let the evening sun warm my cold flesh. If I were to die now, at least it would be peaceful.

Just when I thought that my time had ended, two pairs of strong hands grasped my forearms and heaved me from the ground. Orders made in a foreign language barely reached my deafening ears as I was dragged from the dirt-ridden streets and into an area with wooden floors. The sun was no longer kissing my skin so I could only assume whoever had me took me into a nearby building.

More foreign words were spoken as I felt soft hands remove the fabric from my torso while my carriers laid me on the floor. With my vision still blurred, I could not place any details on any of my savior's faces as they worked on my wounds. A brunette handed off supplies to a red-haired woman as she dabbed a stinging liquid onto my body.

I clawed at my consciousness to stay awake, not knowing if these men or women were friend or foe, but the pain slivered up my spine and into my mind, causing me to fall into darkness.

X

Memories of the fleeting events at Maj Addin's funeral flashed within my eyes as I jolted awake. Breathing rapidly, I shuddered back into consciousness only to find myself within the comfort of the Assassin's Bureau.

But how?

"You've finally decided to awaken," Malik's voice caused me to snap my head towards the doorway that lead into the study. The one-armed man leaned against the threshold as his golden-brown eyes examined my beaten form.

"It was a trap," I say with a raspy voice while holding my side that pulsed with pain.

"There was much chatter amongst the citizens that the funeral turned into chaos. What happened?"

"Robert de Sable was never here. He sent another in his stead. He was expecting me…"

Malik seemed to process my words. "We must get word to Al Mualim."

At first, I believed I should; that maybe my Master could inform me more about what the Templars were planning. Maybe he held the answers to the many questions filling my thoughts, but something nagged at the back of my mind. As though he couldn't be trusted.

"There's no time," I stated as I tried to stand. "She told me where he's gone… what he plans. If I return to Masyaf, he might succeed…and then…I fear we'll be destroyed."

Malik began to pace the room while I pulled myself from the ground. "We have killed most of his men. He cannot hope to mount a proper attack….wait," the one-armed man stopped in place to turn to stare at me. "Did you say she?"

"Yes," I replied with a slight smirk at his reaction. "It was a woman. Strange, I know, but that's for another time. For now we must focus on Robert. We may have thinned his ranks, but the man is clever. He goes to plead his case to Richard and Salah Al'din. To unite them against a common enemy….against us."

Malik's expression showed confusion as he fought for the proper words to say. "Surely you are mistaken. This makes no sense. Those two men would never-"

"-Oh, but they would," I interrupted as I sought my familiar white robes from a table. The one-armed man did not retort so I continued. "We have ourselves to blame. The men I've killed…men on both sides of the conflict….men important to both leaders…Robert's plan may be ambitious, but it makes sense, and it could work."

"Look, brother, things have changed. You must return to Masyaf! We cannot act without our Master's permission; it could compromise the brotherhood….I thought…I thought you had learned this…."

"Stop hiding behind words, Malik!" I snapped as I turned to glare at my old friend. "You wield the creed and its tenants like a shield. He's keeping things from us! Important things! You're the one who told me we can never know anything, only suspect. Well, I suspect this business with the Templars goes deeper. When I'm done with Robert, I will ride for Masyaf, that we may have answers, but perhaps you could go now?"

Malik seemed stricken with conflict. "I cannot leave the city."

"Then walk amongst its people. Seek out those who served the ones I slew; learn what you can. You call yourself perceptive; perhaps you'll see something I could not."

"I don't know…" the one-armed man protested as he began to pace once more. "…I must think on this…"

"Do as you must, my friend, but it's time I ride for Arsuf," I stated as I buckled my weapons straps to my chest with difficulty. "Every moment I delay, our enemy gets one step ahead of me."

Although I knew this meant breaking another tenant to the creed, I had to get answers.

"Be careful, brother," said Malik as he placed his only hand on my shoulder.

"I will be, I promise," I replied, placing a hand on his shoulder as well.

X

The day passed quickly as I rode into Arsuf. Salah Al'din's Turks launched the first attack on Crusader ranks the moment the first filter of light breached the horizon.

Innocent country citizens were forced to flee from their homes to avoid slaughter as both opposing armies fought for control in their fields. Bodies of the dead and forgotten cluttered the roads and plains while the living men continued to push further away from the destruction. The different colored flags of the armies became more detailed as I neared their ranks, hoping to slip by unnoticed.

Archers hid in the tree-lines up ahead which left me no choice, but to continue the trek on foot off the main trail. Steel clashed with steel as screams of agony haunted the burning wasteland. My only hope of reaching Richard was to follow his army into battle.

I kept to the shadows to avoid any unnecessary conflict as I trailed behind the Crusader army. We finally came upon a ridge that stood over the massive battlefield that stretched beyond the horizon, leaving me in awe.

All my life, my training focused on the art of staying hidden and avoiding the brute fighting method of soldiers. Assassins did not fight with numbers; they were cunning and more strategic. My eyes had never seen so many men, horses, and war machines all in one area just for the sake of power.

I was here as an Assassin stuck between two sides with none to call my own. That was the way it should be. There should be no choosing, only what you felt was right.

The ridge where I stood was the advantage to the war. Salah Al'din's men held the land, so they had the upper hand against Richard's forces. By following the ridge, I would be able to safely reach the King and avoid conflict; however, I feared Robert had already beat me to him.

Scouts and guards fell to my blade as I carved myself a route to Richard's camp. Bright red cloth and polished silver armor greeted me the closer I approached the base camp of the English operations where King Richard stood tall on his steed.

"Hold a moment," I called as the patrols threatened to pierce my skin with their blades. The Lionheart gazed down at me with his calculating eyes and a frown etched into his lips. Thinking quickly, I held my hands up in surrender as I stared back at the King. Did he speak Arabic? "It is words I bring, not steel."

A fleeting look of suspicion and fear crossed the Lionheart's face, but he signaled for his men to fall back. Relief washed through me as I watched the soldiers lower their arms and step back a few paces; their eyes glanced back and forth between one another.

"Offering terms of surrender, then? It's about time," King Richard sneered.

"No, you misunderstand," I proclaimed, eyeing the archers on the hills overlooking the camp. "It is Al Mualim who sends me, not Salah Al'din."

The King's expression darkened as he backed his horse away. "Assassin? What is the meaning of this?"

The archers tensed as the men circling me pressed forward. "You've a traitor in your midst."

"And he has hired you to kill me? Come to gloat about it before you strike? I won't be taken so easily!"

I tensed as the men were becoming too close for comfort. "It's not you I've come to kill. It's him."

"Speak, then, that I may judge the truth," Richard called as he beckoned me forward. "Who is the traitor?"

"Robert de Sable."

A surprised expression fell on every man's face in the camp, including the King's. "My lieutenant?"

"He aims to betray," I responded, choosing my words carefully. Any wrong sentence could be the end of my life.

"That's not the way he tells it," said Richard. "He seeks revenge against your people for the havoc you've wrought in Acre, and I am inclined to support him. Some of my best men were murdered by some of yours."

I swallowed the dread filling my throat knowing that what I was about to say would fill me with arrows if the King ordered it. "It was I who killed them, and for good reason." Richard seemed ready to execute me, but I held up my hands in one last plead. "Hear me out. William of Montferrat sought to use his soldiers to take Acre by force. Garnier de Naplouse used his skills to indoctrinate and control any who resisted. Sibrand intended to block the ports, preventing your kingdom from providing aid. They betrayed you, and they took their orders from Robert."

Richard snarled his upper lip in disbelief. "You expect me to believe this outlandish tale?"

"You knew these men better than I. Are you truly surprised to learn of their ill intentions?"

The King thought for a moment before turning to the man standing at his side. "Is this true?"

The knight removed his helmet, and I felt my blood run cold at the sight of Robert de Sable. This bastard not only sought to enslave man's mind, but he took Malik's arm, attacked my home, and was involved in Adala's slavery. He even sent a woman to be his stand-in, so that he could flee.

Our eyes locked as we glared at one other. This had been the first time we met since our encounter under Solomon's Temple. Sable smirked before turning to Richard. "My liege, it is an Assassin that stands before us. These creatures are masters of manipulation. Of course it is not true."

"I've no reason to deceive," I snapped.

"Oh, but you do," Sable sneered. "You're afraid of what will happen to your little fortress. Can it withstand the combined might of the Saracen and Crusader armies?"

"My concern is for the people of the Holy land. If I must sacrifice myself for there to be peace, so be it."

Richard watched on in bemusement. "This is a strange place we find ourselves in. Each of you accusing the other."

"There really is no time for this," Robert sneered. "I must be off to meet with Saladin and enlist his aid. The longer we delay, the harder this will become." The Templar made a move to leave, but Richard help up a hand for him to stop.

"Hold a moment, Robert."

"Why? What do you intend? Surely you do not believe him?" he snapped causing me to hold my breath. The King was beginning to show doubt which could work in my favor.

"It is a difficult decision. One I cannot make alone…I must leave it in the hands of one wiser than I."

"Thank you…" Robert muttered.

"No, Robert, not you," the King snapped.

"Then who?"

"…The Lord. Let it be decided by combat. Surely God will side with the one whose cause is righteous."

I watched as the Templar planted that cocky smirk on his lips. That memory of him besting me in Solomon's Temple most likely replayed in his mind; because it was in mine.

I had to keep telling myself that I was not the same person who entered that temple all those months ago. My arrogance withheld me from my true strength, and let the Templar easily defeat me, but not today. Although Robert was strong and cunning, so too was I.

De Sable bowed his head toward the King, his lip curling into a toothy grin. "If this is what you wish."

"It is," the King replied.

"So be it. To arms, Assassin!"

The soldiers of the encampment made a ring around the two of us as Richard ordered his steed to the back of the crowd. De Sable knew he had the upper hand. He was garbed in chain mail and had spent his day in the safety of his men; where is I who wore robes and fought my way to the King with very little rest after nearly dying only a day's ride ago.

"So, we face each other once more," he taunted as he re-equipped his helm. "Let us hope you prove more of a challenge this time."

I raised my sword as I maneuvered my feet to a fighting stance. "I am not the man you faced inside the temple."

"You look the same to me," said Robert as he too ascended his blade.

Although the urge to strike twitched within my muscles, I resisted and waited for the Templar to make the first move. "Appearances can deceive."

"True."

Robert closed in with a heavy swing of his sword, giving me enough time to block. I stumbled slightly almost loosing the handle of my blade, but I quickly danced to the left to avoid his next attack while studying his combat techniques. Although the Templars were just as well diverse with weaponry as Assassins, they preferred heavy swords and battle armor; everything that potentially slowed them down. Speed was going to be the only way to win this battle.

"Soon this will be over and Masyaf will fall!" Robert pressed as he swung his blade forward.

"My brothers are stronger than you think!" I retorted back.

"We'll know the truth of that soon enough!"

Our blades clashed as our eyes met. The man appeared determined, but his actions spoke of arrogance. I managed to maneuver around his wide swings, slashing a few gashes into his mail and helm. The Templar backed a few steps away finally realizing my true skill.

"Oh, so the child has learned to use a blade."

"I've had a lot of practice. Your men saw to that!"

"They were sacrificed in service to a higher cause!"

"As will you be."

Snarling, Robert leaped forward, catching me off guard which in turn loosened the blade from my hands. I managed to catch my bearings in time to avoid the Templar's broad wing and sent my elbow into the side of his helm. De Sable lost his footing and fell to one knee; his sword was in front of him stuck in the ground.

"The time for games has ended!" the man called desperately as he stood and charged at me blindly.

I kept up my dance of evasion as the Templar pressed forward. His attacks became weaker and less calculated as he continued.

"I do not know where your strength comes from…some trick…."

"It is as your King said: Righteousness will always triumph over greed."

"My cause is righteous!" Robert whined like a child.

The Templar rose the blade over his head hoping to get the death blow first, but he was much too slow. I had already extended my hidden blade and drove it into the space between his helm and chain mail. The broadsword fell from his hands and onto the ground behind him. His mouth hung open as blood gurgled from his throat. I grabbed a hold of his torso as he sank to his knees. I helped him gently to the ground while studying the fading light leaving his eyes.

"It's done then," I stated as I helped slide the helm from his face. "Your schemes-like you-are put to rest."

"You know nothing of schemes," he retorted as he laughed. "You're but a puppet. He betrayed you, boy! Just as he betrayed me."

"Speak sense, Templar, or not at all."

The man laughed once more. "Nine men he sent to kill, yes? The nine who guarded the treasure's secret."

The nine guardians: those whose duty it was to protect the Holy land as Warrior Monks, or so they said. They made the Temple Mount their base in hopes of obtaining its relics for themselves. I had killed them all.

"What of it?" I hissed.

"It wasn't nine who found the treasure, Assassin." The man smiled as he coughed up blood. "Not nine, but ten."

I was enveloped in shock as the idea of it paralyzed my thoughts. "A tenth? None may live who carry the secret! Give me his name!"

"Oh, but you know him well, and I doubt very much you'd take his life as willingly as you have taken mine."

"Who?"

I knew the answer, but I wanted to heart it, no matter how much it pained me.

"It is your master: Al Mualim."

"But he is not a Templar."

De Sable shook his head as he smiled. "Did you ever wonder how it is he knew so much? Where to find us, how many we numbered, what we aspired to attain?"

"He is the Master of Assassins…"

Not even I could believe my own words.

"Master of lies. You and I just two more pawns in his grand game, and now, with my death, only you remain. Do you think he'll let you live knowing what you do?"

"I've no interest in the treasure."

"Ah, but he does. The only difference between your Master and I is that he did not want to share."

"No…"

"Ironic, isn't it? That I-your greatest enemy-kept you safe from harm, but now you've taken my life, and in the process, ended your own."

I took in a deep breath, still unable to comprehend it all.

"We do not always find the things we seek," I whisper as I stand from Robert's dead body. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the tension of the soldiers around me as Richard approached from behind the crowd.

"Well fought, Assassin," he congratulated. "It seems God favors your cause this day."

"God had nothing to do with it. I was the better fighter," I retorted with a stern, but quiet voice. I was still at the man's mercy.

"Ah. You may not believe in him, but it seems he believes in you… Before you go, I have a question."

"Ask it then," I reply, still in slight shock from the recent events.

"Why? Why travel all this way? Risk your life a thousand times? All to kill a single man."

"He threatened my brothers and what we stand for."

"Vengeance, then?"

"No…not vengeance." I glance down at the dead French man and see the reminder of what I stood for; fought for, and what I strove to see in the world. "Justice… so that there might be peace."

"This is what you fight for?" Richard gestured toward the battlefield in the distance where bodies lied broken and unrecognizable. "Peace? Do you see the contradiction here?"

My eyes travel to the still warm body of De Sable. "Some men can not be reasoned with."

"Like that madman Saladin!"

I study the King with a feeling of hope for the man. Although he was viewed as tyrant to the people of the Holy lands, I saw the fair and just in him. "I think he would like to see an end to this war as much as you."

He snorted. "So I've heard, but never seen."

"Even if he doesn't say it, it's what the people want. Saracen and Crusader alike."

"The people know not what they want. That is why they turn to people like us."

"Then it is up to people like you to do what is right."

Richard curled his lip. "Nonsense. We come into this world kicking and screaming. Violent and unstable. It is what we are. We cannot stop ourselves."

"No. We are what we choose to be."

Richard smiled. "Your kind…always playful with words."

"I speak the truth," I retort. "There is no trick here."

"We'll know soon enough, but I fear you cannot have what you desire this day. Even now, that heathen Saladin cuts through my men and I must attend to them, but perhaps having seen how vulnerable he is-he will reconsider his actions. In time what you seek may be possible."

"You were no more secure than him," I said. "Do not forget that. The men you left behind to rule in your stead did not intend to serve you for longer than they had to."

"Yes, I am well aware."

"Then I'll take my leave. My Master and I have much to discuss. It seems that even he is not without fault."

Richard gave me a generous smile. "He is only human. As we all are. You as well."

"Safety and peace be upon you." I bow before turning to leave, and that was when I saw the blonde woman with bright, blue sapphire eyes staring back at me from beyond the crowd.

She seemed just as surprised as I was to run into her in this place. With the recent events piling on top of me, I had almost forgotten that she was sent here under Robert's command on the spice merchant. Before I returned to Masyaf, I could do one last deed to make sure she received the safety that I owed her.

"I have one last request," I announce as I turn to meet eyes with the King.

"What now, Assassin?" he snaps.

"I know it would be too much to ask to free the men and women Robert has offered you as of late, but I ask that I at least free one today from the chains of this war. I do owe one my life, and they are slaves forced to work under command rather than agree to this chaos."

The King appeared rather appalled by my suggestion as if he was stricken with some form of guilt. "The men that Robert marched here are slaves?"

I nod, seeing the King's true nature. He truly was just and fair. "I even know the name of the man who gave him the army. If you plan to keep them here, I suggest you treat them with as much respect as you would your own."

Richard glances at his second lieutenant who filled the position the moment De Sable took his last breath, and nods his head as though sharing an order telepathically. "I see. You may take any of the men or women that Robert has brought to me. They are now free."


End file.
